Opposed to Jewish Temple-rites, Strange to the lore of Greece, That message comes from starry hei… A key to lasting Peace. What-e’er our creed, we own its th…

A spectral film that came and went… In its elusive way gave vent In some unreal words which meant; ‘I think therefore I am.’ That phantasm only thought it thou…

Life is a Poem, short or long, A dismal Dirge, or jovial Song, A Psalm of faith, or Lay of Prid… One stanza by each year supplied. And thy sweet Hymn of love and tr…

Sing the evil days we see, and the… In such doggerel as dejection will… We are pilgrims, sorrow-led, with… No elysian Up the Country for us… For the settlements extend till th…

Now the truce of night brings resp… And in listlessness I pace the ri… Where the solitude is wounded by n… But illicit fancy will not be deni… For the darkening flat reiterates…

Johnny’s drowned—here’s his clo’es Where he’s got to, we dunno; Sure enough, he never rose; So we thought we’d let you know. Gosh! the fright has knocked us fl…

You argue—as sympathy governs your… That Wisdom distributes the capon… Indulging the sinful, and stinting… Or starving the wicked, and fatten… You are wrong to the Evil One; he…

The Seraph-song of morning’s prim… That hail’d Messiah’s birth, The charter of a coming time When Love shall rule the earth, Rings from yon far Judaean hill—

When the great Creator fashion’d… He commission’d us to dominate the… But His ordinance meets denial st… For the Boer is always with us, c… Yet the Lord has given us grace t…

In spite of his imposing plea, A freeman whom the truth makes fre… Is often fairly up a tree, And marvels why it should be thus. Then reasoning in his tin-pot way

A gentle loving thoughtful boy, But happy gay and bright: A gleam of sunshine from the sky That filled a home with light. And whether busied with his play

(From ‘An Idyll of the Wimmera.’… On the geodetic line, where the pa… At a level and interminable lane You can see it there, alone, stand… Like an iceberg in a solitary main…

“Prove what Life can give of glad… Seek for aught that merits trust— All thy mirth will turn to sadness… All thy bliss to cold disgust. Soon revolving years will banish

Would I were a profit monger, Buying cheap, and selling dear, Groceries, or something stronger, Toys, or pipes, or sporting gear, Wrong, maybe, but ain’t it wronger

Tell me not in future numbers That our thought becomes inane, That our metre halts and lumbers, When the Wattle blooms again. Lies of great men all remind us